


put your hand in mine

by raffinit



Series: with finesse and fervour; devour me [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assisted Masturbation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Cunnilingus, Edgeplay, F/F, Gratuitous Smut, Magic Fingers, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Temperature Play, Tendrils, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 14:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17851790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: Jaina misses her wife.





	put your hand in mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zellk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zellk/gifts).



> Hello and welcome to the first in a series of gratuitous and unadulterated filth, starring our two favourite Gays; SylvanAss and Gayna.
> 
> This is first in a series of gratuitous smut pieces written with a range of nebulous timelines and universes.
> 
> There is no plot and there is no sense.
> 
> There is only Porn. 
> 
> To Zellk, who has been consistently whispering the greatest and lewdest filth into my ear, and for taking the time to spoil me rotten with visual depictions of said filth. You're a gem and an asshole and I wouldn't have you any other way.

 

For all intents and purposes, Jaina understood that there were going to be times in their marriage when Sylvanas had to be away. Even she was not exempt from the constant and pressing responsibilities of ruling a kingdom and commanding the larger parts of the realm as a whole. It came with the territory most times; as Lord Admiral and Warchief — what else was she really expecting? The Faction War had ended, but still, the majority of the Alliance and Horde traded veiled insults and barbs as often as they did blows. Manoeuvring the diplomatic relationships of Azeroth’s kingdoms rarely saw them apart; wherever Sylvanas had to be, so did she. It was only the rarest of instances when Sylvanas’ schedule diverged from her own that Jaina would wake to an empty bed and a note — sometimes elegantly scripted, other times hastily scrawled.

But each time — signed off with ‘ _my heart is with you always’,_ and often with the soft scent of pressed flowers.

So yes. Jaina _understood_ it.

It certainly didn’t mean that she _liked_ it.

So when she woke that morning to the bed cold and empty beside her, Jaina thought that the prickling under her skin had been nothing more than irritation. Annoyance and petulance at having not been woken and kissed goodbye; at finding the sweet-scented letter and tracing her fingers over the familiar scrawl. Weariness and longing that usually tremored in her fingertips when she was away from Sylvanas in sudden moments.

Whatever it was, Jaina did not dwell on it for long. She was still Lord Admiral. There was much to be done.

Still, the restlessness remained with her throughout the day. It was a faint _buzzing_ , almost. An itch just under the surface of her skin that she couldn’t quite reach, a tingle of sensation that started from the tips of her fingers and moved along the depths of her chest and belly and pooled there. At first, Jaina had simply dismissed it to the gratuitous amounts of coffee she consumed in the day, and then the frequent longing she felt in her bones whenever Sylvanas was far from her side.

That was the first day.

By the third day Sylvanas was gone, Jaina found herself waking with sweat-soaked sheets tangled around her legs and an entirely different yearning encompassing her. The faint thrum in her fingertips had built into an inescapable pulse of need in the cradle of her hips, and Jaina felt like she could very nearly vibrate out of her skin. Her magic began to flare in small waves, bristling and prickling over her arms, and she stared at the foggy blue of it for a moment. Her nightwear was clinging to her skin uncomfortably, damp and cool, and she curled her hands into fists as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Reaching down slowly, she slid her hand beneath the soaked silk and cotton of her underwear, breath hitching at the first touch of her fingers over swollen, slick flesh. Her clit throbbed needily, sensation sparking through her with the barest of strokes. She traced over it with a feathery caress of her thumb, stroking over the swollen bud as her fingers sought the embarrassingly generous wetness below it.

She ground up against her hand for a moment, pressing her fingers inwards just along her entrance, curling them just barely within herself and pulling back. It wouldn’t take much for her to come, but still; she wished that her touch was colder, her fingers longer.

The thought set something curdling and heavy in her stomach, and Jaina pulled her wet hand away with a frustrated sigh. She wasn’t some wanton heroine in a cheesy Harlequin romance. She could endure time away from her wife.

Wiping her hand across the sheets, Jaina rose from the bed. The urgent pulsing between her legs was steadfastly ignored.

She had things to do.

The day passed at an excruciating crawl. Outside of the building wetness and ache between her thighs, Jaina’s day was filled with the bureaucratic nightmare of settling disputes between trade guilds and hearing petitions that seemed to coalesce into one big, steaming pile of —

By the time the last of her petitions were heard and sent on their way, Jaina was nearly trembling out of her skin. She gripped the armrests of her chair and forced herself to quell the rising bristle of magic. Alina glanced at her from her elbow wordlessly, her eyes speaking enough as her nose twitched in the barest hint of movement. Jaina pointedly ignored her gaze, pushing herself upright from her seat.

“Is there news from the Dark Lady, Alina?”

“None that have reached my ears, Lord Admiral.”

Jaina sighed, flexing her hands at her sides. She could feel the material of her tights clinging to her inner thighs; every shift or tilt of her hips in her seat had only multiplied the torturous edge she’d been on for days, and despite the sheer desperation that was building inside her, Jaina hadn’t quite reached the point of blatantly getting herself off in public.

...without Sylvanas there, at least.

Turning on her heels slowly, she regarded Alina with a hard look. “I don’t expect there to be a reason for anyone to need me the rest of the evening.” There was no question in her voice, and barely even a command.

It was a threat to the universe to _try her_.

Alina inclined her head. “Of course, my Lady. I will ensure it.”

“Thank you, Alina,” Jaina said, placing a hand on the dark ranger’s shoulder as she swept past. Her powers sparked and roiled under her skin; like a living being in need of attention, like a restless creature straining at its bindings for release.

To quell the urge, she Blinked back to their shared quarters, but the mana drain from the teleporting was barely enough to calm the electric blaze of need. She was certain that it must be some sort of charm Sylvanas had placed on her before leaving — but they had long since adjusted to the effects of their soul-binding. Although she wouldn’t really put it past Sylvanas to be... _devious_ , at times.

She reached out her magic, pulling about the room for any traces of wards that she hadn’t placed there herself. Finding none, Jaina resigned herself to the fact that whatever it was that had settled under her skin was there on its own accord.

Namely, _her_ accord.

So perhaps it had been a while since she and Sylvanas had managed to spend time together outside of their daily schedules. It happened sometimes; travelling back and forth from place-to-place, diverting from planned routines to lay low a group of creatures that roamed several of their borders still. It was strange to Jaina that they weren’t necessarily _distant_ — they were practically attached to the hip most days — but even with such close quarters, Jaina couldn’t remember the last time she had the strength to do anything more than kiss her wife goodnight.

So yes.

Maybe it had been awhile.

Sighing, Jaina shed her clothes without thought, abandoning them in a pile at the foot of the bed. She crawled naked onto the sheets, the fine hairs on her body prickling at the coolness of them as she sprawled out on her stomach. The silken texture of the sheets was enough to tease her nipples into peaks, and Jaina savoured the chill of the bed for as long as she could. It wasn’t long before the heat of her own body bled into it, and Jaina pulled the pillows together into a high pile before turning onto her back on them.

She sighed again, this time with relief as the slowly building sweat of her skin cooled at the breeze of the room. A tickle teased over her skin and she reached up to scratch at it gently, ghosting her fingertips over the dip and curve of her collarbone. The sensation of her own hand stroking along her skin made a flutter bloom in her chest, and slowly, Jaina slid her fingers from her collarbone down to her chest. She teased the barest whispers of her fingers over one nipple first, then the other, mimicking the way Sylvanas would scrape the edge of her nail over the very tips of them. The familiar touch made her gasp, and Jaina shuddered slightly as she traced over her nipple again and again, until the delicate flesh there was too sensitive for more.

Licking her lips, she settled back against the pillows and slid her hand over to her other breast. She repeated the treatment, shifting her hips and crossing her thighs as the tingle of heat began to spread down low in the cradle of her hips, coiling there tight. She traced her other hand over the skin of her belly, muscles twitching at the ticklish touch, shivering at the growing build of goose flesh over her arms as she circled her fingers around her navel, trailing upwards over the divots of her ribcage and back down.

She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, and the sharp, heady scent of her own arousal made Jaina clench down hard. Her teeth sank hard into the edge of her lip, heat rising into her cheeks so rapidly that she very nearly swooned. Tides, but had it truly been so long since she’d been touched so?

Slowly, she slid one hand down her side, tracing a pattern that was familiar as it was foreign. The paths she marked were ones Sylvanas would follow, but in her own hand, it was stilted and strange. Still, the wetness between her legs from the day was smeared along her skin, drying along the outer curve of her thighs as more wetness built anew.

Jaina spread her legs, shifting her hips against the silk sheets. She inhaled sharply at the touch of the cool air against overheated flesh, her clit twinging at the ache of being so devoid of touch. Her fingers dared to venture lower, and as they parted slippery wet folds, she reached up to her breast with her free hand, and pinched a nipple cruelly.

Rivets of pleasure and pain clawed over her spine at once as Jaina arched on the bed, pressing into the touches of her own hands. It wasn’t the same, it wasn’t broad palms and long fingers and solid muscle looming over her; it was not _Sylvanas_ , but it was all she could do. She wasted no more time teasing her body into a burning flame — the fire beneath her skin was already threatening to consume her, and Jaina’s eyes were glazing over with need.

Pushing two fingers in, Jaina hissed at the touch, groaning with relief as her walls clenched down desperately at the intrusion. Finally, _finally_ , something to fill the emptiness inside her.

“Fuck,” she breathed, thrusting her hips in a slow roll upwards, biting down harder on her lip as she curled her fingers. The angle was wrong; she liked it best the fingers inside her reached _deep_ , touched her in places that seemed untouchable otherwise. She liked it best when the fingers that crooked and curled inside her were rough with calluses in places where they held bowstring taut, where they wielded weapons without effort.

Perhaps, if she cooled her fingers?

It was a close thing, but the chill of her magic was much too cold to mimic her wife's touch. It all felt too impersonal; too familiar and unfamiliar.

Jaina let out a small whine of frustration, throwing out her free hand to cling to the sheets. She slid her fingers out with a wet noise, teasing the tender skin of her entrance before pushing three in all at once. She hissed aloud at the stretch; nearly enough, almost. She rolled onto her stomach then, forcing herself on trembling thighs as the angle shifted, and she rocked her hips down desperately onto her fingers. The pillows still smelled like Sylvanas; like flowers and cold steel and arcane, and Jaina brought one up to muffle her noises, to breathe in the familiar scent as her muscles began to tighten, sweat building on her skin —

“ _My. What a welcome home._ ”

Jaina gasped sharply, spinning around on the bed with a yelp. She pulled her hand away, but just as sharp and just as fast, an encompassing touch held it in place between her legs. She stared up at the shadowy form looming over the bedside, eyes wide as she took in the slow unfurling of familiar tendrils and blazing red eyes.

“Sylvanas.” She reached out her other hand, cupping her wife’s cheek. “I — I didn’t hear you come in.” A flush burned a path up her chest and along her neck, spreading across her cheekbones, and Jaina tried to tug her hand from Sylvanas’ grip.

The Banshee Queen tilted her head slowly, a hungry gleam in her eyes as she bent down and kissed Jaina wordlessly. Jaina moaned into it, a wild flurry of emotions building in her chest as she reached up and wound her arm around Sylvanas’ broad shoulders, gasping against her wife’s lips at the cold press of steel and leather against her blazing flesh.

She shivered, and Sylvanas’ eyes flashed as she pulled back.

“Is this what you do when you miss me, my heart?” Her low, rough voice made Jaina shiver, and between her legs, she felt the wetness pooling. Sylvanas’ grip on her wrist did not ease, and instead she felt her fingers being manoeuvred back inside herself. “Do you call my name so while you dream of my fingers in place of yours?”

Jaina whimpered, tugging Sylvanas in closer to her until she had one knee on the bed. “Touch me,” she begged, mouthing the angular jut of Sylvanas’ jawline and burying her face into the divot of her neck. The scent of her was intoxicating, dizzying and sharp and almost like drowning. “Please —”

She felt the ethereal touch of Sylvanas’ tendrils slithering over her skin, and she clenched with anticipation. They wound gently around her trembling thighs, traced over the tight muscle of her stomach, weaving around the full spill of her breasts. Suddenly all Jaina could feel was _touch_ ; her nerve endings coming to life in a violent rush of sensation. She shivered as two of them came up to graze her folds, the cold of them biting against her flesh as they spread her open.

Keening shrilly, Jaina opened her eyes and stared up at Sylvanas, her breaths coming out in sharp heaves. She tried to move her fingers, but Sylvanas’ grip was unrelenting.

“Are you cold, Jaina?” Sylvanas murmured, eyes predatory. “Your fingers have taken such a chill, even when pressed to such heat.” A wicked smile spread across her face, fangs gleaming in the light. “Or did you miss me so?”

“S-Sylvanas, _please_ —”

Her plea was kissed away sweetly. “Allow me to help.”

The tendrils spread her wider, peeling her folds open as Sylvanas slid her icy touch over her fingers. Jaina hissed sharply at it; the sting of being held apart and the bite of her cold skin were nothing compared to the agonising _bliss_ as Sylvanas’ fingers slid into her all at once.

Her head kicked back on reflex, and Jaina howled to the ceiling as she trembled and shook at the stretch. Her legs flailed and jerked, and more tendrils slithered along her ankles and thighs, bracing her against the bed as Sylvanas purred and growled over her. She gasped for breath, muscles squeezing down sporadically at the girth of — Tides, how many fingers were  _i_ _n her_?

A slow tendril teased over the straining bud of her clit, and Jaina twitched hard.

“Breathe,” Sylvanas soothed her, trailing a path of kisses along her temple and cheeks. She could feel the sheen of sweat on her skin, building even higher as she felt her clit pulse in time with the frantic beat of her heart.

Jaina gulped back a breath, mustering the strength to speak. “H-how many are in me?”

Sylvanas grinned. “How many do you feel, my heart?” She flexed her fingers, and Jaina’s eyes rolled back.

“Oh — _fuck_ —” Jaina tried to pull her thighs together but found them held firmly in place by the tendrils. She shivered when the one circling over her clit slid down towards their hands, and Jaina gasped at the cool touch of it along the sensitive skin of her entrance. “F-four?”

Sylvanas reached out and brushed her hair back from her face, and as she leaned down, Jaina felt her thumb flicking gently over her clit. “Almost.”

Her eyes widened. “ _F-five_?”

“Nearly.”

Tides, she was going to faint. “S-S—” She gulped, muscles tight and straining as she held herself painfully still, a tremor of fear cutting through the maddening fog of lust and need and relief. “S-Si-x?”

Sylvanas purred with approval, murmuring low and soft in Thalassian to her. Some of it, Jaina knew, and from what she could hear, understood it all as crooning words of praise and love. She blushed and hid her face into Sylvanas’ neck again, gasping against her skin as from within her, Jaina felt her wife’s powerful fingers flexing against her own.

“I missed you,” Sylvanas whispered, and the tenderness of her words startled Jaina. “I thought of you the entire time I was gone.” Slowly, the fingers inside her began to move, and Jaina had to bite back a small squeak of pain at the first glide of their joined fingers. “I thought of how you would look, just like this. I thought of the flush of your skin at my touch, at the blue of your eyes when I kiss you. And then I returned home, and I could _smell_ your desperation.”

Jaina let out a broken sob, her hips straining to rock up into their thrusting fingers. She was entirely consumed by her wife’s words, her presence; her touch. Her fingers were moving entirely at the whim of Sylvanas’ pace, pressing in and curling upwards, the tendrils stroking over the bulge and strain of her entrance to accommodate such girth. Her head swam, an overwhelming rush of everything she wanted — everything she _needed_ , and Jaina clawed at her armour.

Sylvanas’ long fingers crooked up then, vicious and firm against the tender grooves inside her, and Jaina wailed.

“T-touch me!” she sobbed, fingers gripping tight to Sylvanas’ cuirass. “Please, please —” She gnashed her teeth and growled when Sylvanas stilled her touches instead.

With nothing short of the power she wielded with an idle sort of smugness, Sylvanas pulled their fingers out together. She pressed their hands against Jaina’s folds instead, soothing the burn at her entrance with the cool touch of her flesh.

Jaina writhed, anger cutting through the haze as she opened her heady eyes and glared at her wife.

Sylvanas met her glare with one of coy affection. “Patience, dearest. You must be _aching_.” She brought their hands up to her mouth, eyes blazing into Jaina’s.

She watched, rapt, as Sylvanas took her fingers between plush lips, the faint pink of a tongue darting out to lap over the glossy wetness. Jaina shivered, but between her legs she was _empty_. She inhaled sharply as Sylvanas’ fangs grazed against the tips of her fingers, her hungry mouth moving from her fingers down to lap at Jaina’s palm, pressing a soft kiss there.

“I missed you, too,” Jaina rasped, and Sylvanas’ ear flicked as she hummed a curious noise. “I haven’t touched myself since you left. I’ve been wanting to, but I just — it never felt the same.”

Sylvanas paused her ministrations, tilting her head with intrigue. “You mean to tell me you’ve been torturing yourself like this for days?” Her voice took on a wicked coo, and the tendrils nearly writhed with delight around her. “Edging yourself closer and closer to that precipice, but never quite reaching it?”

The edge of her lip was near bloody from how hard she’d bitten into it. “Yes,” she whispered, and her head continued to swim, lost in the heady combination of need and want and exhilaration. “Nothing was enough.”

“No?” Sylvanas’ tendrils slithered eagerly down around her waist and hips and thighs, a mass of them embracing her with the wanton touch of a lover despite Sylvanas’ slow caresses. Several of them reached out and stroked over her heated skin, nuzzling against her entrance as Jaina’s breath hitched.

“Allow me to amend that, wife.”

Jaina melted down onto the bed as Sylvanas came to loom further over her, swallowing the light of the room with the bulk of her frame. She sighed as Sylvanas took her lips for a kiss, moaning quietly at the taste of herself between their passing tongues as the tendrils began to take hold of her thighs once more.

Two of them peeled her back open, and Jaina dropped her head back with a groan as another two slid lower. There was little resistance at that moment; she was absolutely _dripping wet_ , and Jaina moaned with relief as the cool, slithering lengths pressed inside her. They were certainly thicker than her fingers, thicker than even Sylvanas’, and the immediate fullness in her hips made her moan go ragged.

She was _full_ , but _not full enough_.

“A-another?” she asked, a low keen in her voice. “P-please?”

“Anything you wish of me, my heart,” Sylvanas purred.

Jaina tensed slightly when the tendrils inside her began to spread her open, muscles clenching in waves around the sensation as a third wriggled its way inside her. She shuddered, hard, and blushed at the lewd noise of the tendrils moving within her. The tendrils wrapped around her breasts gave a kneading squeeze, their phantom touches ghosting across her nipples the same time the ones wrapped around her thighs pulled her open wider.

She bit back a cry, reaching up to claw at Sylvanas’ shoulders with both hands. “Oh f-fuck — oh, _Tides_ —”

“Is that enough?” Sylvanas whispered, the low growl of it full of desire. “Do you need more, sweet thing? To fill you to the point of breaking?” She trailed her hand down Jaina’s body, stroking and caressing every curve and dip of her, as if she was mapping out the path of her body. As if she was committing it to memory.

Her broad hands settled over the cradle of Jaina’s hips, and Sylvanas’ eyes flashed as she began to press down slightly over where the tendrils had filled her.

Stars bloomed under her eyelids.

There were no words, no thoughts that Jaina could tangibly put together. It was as if the very air in her lungs had been swept away, stolen away in a cacophony of sensation. She felt only Sylvanas — only the touch of her tendril engulfing her, only her wife’s presence permeating each facet of her world. It boiled down to the writhing thrusts of the tendrils, the heavy pressure of Sylvanas’ hand between her hips, the agony of her unattended clit.

“ _Anar’alah_ ,” Sylvanas gasped. “ _Look at you_.”

Air finally rushed back into Jaina’s lungs, and she choked out an utterly _ruined_ noise. She slid one trembling hand down between her legs the same, skin prickling at the ethereal brush of the tendrils as she reached down and pawed frantically at her clit.

Sylvanas let out a low growl, and Jaina all but screamed in fury when her wrist was manacled and pulled away. “Allow me.” She kissed the tips of Jaina’s wet fingers, licking them clean before another tendril came to take hold of her wrist.

One broad hand slid down over her hips once more, callused fingertips finding her clit with the ease of the long-married. Jaina sobbed with relief, sagging against the thousand-handed touches of the tendrils, her magic pulsing under her skin as her eyes began to blow. A tendril weaved around her neck, a pressure like the softest silk and the heaviest chains. She gasped, and when the pressure of it tightened slightly, her eyes glazed hard, pupils blown wide.

Sylvanas slicked two of her fingers along Jaina’s folds, trapping her clit between them and pressing down —

The world narrowed down to a tunnel of light, flashing brilliant blue and sparking across the sky like dancing lines of electricity. A burst of magic unfurled from within her, exploding outwards at an intensity that left Jaina teetering dangerously into the realm of unconsciousness. The tendrils inside her continued their endless writhing, although it was softer now, gentler. An undulating twist inside her that made her walls clench down so viciously it stung.

Sylvanas’ caresses on her clit were feather light, and Jaina was gasping still when the Banshee Queen bent low to kiss her once more. It was sweet and languid, possessive in the casualness with which she stole Jaina’s breath, and Jaina allowed her it.

“Alright?” Sylvanas murmured, the blazing embers of her eyes eliciting a different kind of warmth in Jaina’s belly.

Jaina let out a ragged little whimper, thighs jerking in the aftershocks. Her walls were tender and aching, and when she clenched down again, she winced. “S-sore.”

The tendrils gave one last twist inside her, and Jaina bit back a low moan as they began to slide away from her. The first one pulled out with a lewd noise, its ridges pressing hard along her walls. One first, and then another, and when the last had left her trembling thighs, Jaina felt instantly bereft at the loss. Her muscles felt weak and overworked, and Jaina shivered when she felt the wetness dribbling down the seam of her entrance.

She blushed, trying to pull her legs together, but the tendrils around her thighs and legs were steadfast. “Sylvanas —”

“Let me see,” her wife rumbled, eyes flashing as they dragged down Jaina’s body like a physical caress, lingering between her spread thighs. “My,” Sylvanas purred. “Look what a mess you’ve made.”

Jaina felt the heat of it rush up to her ears, blazing over her cheeks as the tendrils pulled her thighs wider apart. She felt the cool breeze of the room brushing against her tender folds, but the tendrils held her bared for Sylvanas, open and exposed. “Ah —” She twitched when a cool palm cupped her, soothing her overheated skin gently.

“Divine,” Sylvanas hummed, her fingers tracing the rim of Jaina’s entrance. “But such a mess. It would be impolite to leave you in such a state.”

The tendrils retreated slowly, fading back into Sylvanas. She marked a path along Jaina’s chest and neck, mouthing down her body, kissing and nipping and sucking at sweat-slick skin until she reached her hips. She nuzzled her face into the spread of fine white-blonde hair between them.

Jaina jerked at the first touch of that cool mouth to her skin. Sylvanas kissed and mouthed and nuzzled her folds, pressing her tongue in slow patterns over her entrance. She could feel her inner walls twitching, clenching down on the nothingness inside her and savouring the gentle strokes of Sylvanas’ skilled tongue.

The plume of arcane energy crackled in the air, lighting the bedroom in a flare of purple and blue before gradually dissipating. Jaina felt the buzzing in her limbs melt away into nothingness, sapped entirely of the restlessness that had plagued her for days. Sylvanas coaxed her into a slow release then, full of nothing but gentle caresses and the warm, steady suction of her mouth against her clit.

“Enough,” she mumbled, eyes drooping with the heavy lull of exhaustion even as her hips still rolled lazily against her wife's plundering mouth. A soft, persistent shiver ran through her, and Jaina whined. She reached down and stroked her fingers through the silken length of Sylvanas’ hair, tracing her fingertips gently over the regal taper of an ear. When Sylvanas looked up at her, Jaina gave her a dazed and drunken smile. “Come here,” she murmured, cupping her wife’s face. “I’ve missed you.”

Sylvanas obliged her, pressing one last kiss to the top of her mound. She pulled back briefly, and Jaina found the strength to push herself up onto an elbow to watch as Sylvanas undressed. A soft, fluttering warmth bloomed in her chest at the familiar broadness of her wife’s frame, the steady, unwavering presence of her. She watched with unbridled pleasure and delight as Sylvanas was finally bare before her, eyes following the hard lines of her body, the scars she knew as intimately as she knew her own.

Reaching out a hand, Jaina smiled as Sylvanas took it readily, eyes softening as the Banshee Queen pressed a tender kiss along the inside of her wrist before prowling over her. She sighed happily at the press of cold flesh against her, shivering at the rapidly cooling sweat on her skin. Pressing a kiss to Sylvanas’ collarbone, Jaina mumbled, “Thank you for that. I needed it.”

“Always,” Sylvanas murmured, draping herself over Jaina like an oversized and preening cat. She shifted to lean on her side, cradling Jaina in her arms as their legs tangled together. “You’re glowing,” she remarked, brushing back the strands of hair pressed against Jaina’s sweaty cheeks.

Jaina grinned at her sleepily. “Wonder why.” She curled into her wife’s embrace eagerly, nuzzling close as she tucked her face into Sylvanas’ neck. She felt the slick press of flesh against her thigh, and glanced down at it with a knowing grin.

“Sleep,” Sylvanas chided her, a smirk pulling at her lips. “You’ll have your fill of me in the morning.”

As much as she wanted to beg to differ, Jaina’s eyes were rapidly losing the fight against the heaviness of sleep. Still, she managed to press her hand against the slow beat reverberating in Sylvanas’ chest; an exact match to the one in her own.

“Will you be here in the morning, then?” she asked, dropping her head back down onto Sylvanas’ shoulder. “And you won’t leave without telling me again?”

Taking her hand, Sylvanas pressed a kiss to her fingertips and then held it against her chest once more. “Tomorrow and for the rest of our days.”

“Mmn...S’lvanas?”

“Yes, dear?”

“T’morrow y’gonna sit on my face, ‘kay?”

“...yes, dear.”


End file.
